


Natasha Has a Friendship Circle

by jugglingeese



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotions, Female Friendship, Fluffy Ending, Friendship, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugglingeese/pseuds/jugglingeese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may or may not be Natasha's birthday, but all her boys are out of town and her girl club is seriously diminished. Adorable ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natasha Has a Friendship Circle

**Author's Note:**

> One shot that I may add to later if inspired. Hope you enjoy. :)

“What up, homes!” Darcy calls cheerfully as she saunters into the bar holding an insulated, reusable Starbucks cup in her mittened hands. The waitress gives the cup a sour look, so as Darcy sits down she pulls a dollar bill from her pocket and sets it deliberately on the table. The waitress’ expression doesn’t change, but she moves on. Darcy grins at the table’s other occupants. “So how is everyone?”

“The CIA keeps bugging everything I own, and Natasha keeps jogging the table,” Maria Hill summarises, not looking up from the dissected pieces of her phone laid out on the table.

“I am not,” Natasha responds. She reaches over and points at a tiny black speck on the back of the battery. “There.”

“Damn it!” Maria picks it off with her fingernail and leans down to stick it under her chair.

“Aw.” Darcy pulls a mock sad face. “Everyone’s grumpy today.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Maria and Natasha chorus. Darcy raises an eyebrow, and focuses her gaze on Natasha first.

“What’s wrong with your boys?” she asks, knowing that Nat wouldn’t be showing any signs of unease in any other situation. 

“Nothing,” Natasha says sitting up a little straighter. It takes her about fifteen seconds to relent. “It’s Clint. Three days ago he texted me he was going on a mission. Then nothing.”

“It’s probably just high clearance level,” Maria shrugs. “I’m not even sure who’s employing him right now. Maybe he just can’t tell you.”

Natasha tightens her jaw. She could tell Maria exactly who Clint’s working for. In fact, she could hand over the guy’s personal information, up to and including the internet browsing habits of his daughter’s babysitter. And usually her inbox would be full of stupid texts from Clint about the similarity between airports, the firmness of his motel mattress, a dog he met that he thought was cute. Little things, reassuring her that he was alive without telling her he knew she was worrying. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Darcy says. “Maybe there’s just no phone reception where he is. Or maybe a puppy looked at him for three seconds with its cute puppy eyes and he just gave it his phone so it could call its cute puppy friends.”

Natasha’s mouth twitched into a smile. 

“Also,” Darcy says, swirling the last of her coffee together before downing it, “isn’t it your birthday about now?”

Natasha’s face shuts down. 

“Aha!” Darcy leans back, looking far more smug than Natasha thinks is healthy. “I knew it.”

“It’s your birthday?” Maria tilts her head. “You should have said something.”

“Yeah,” Natasha says flatly. She stares at Maria. “So, what’s with the phone tapping? Do your bosses hate you, or do they just not trust you?”

Maria leans back, and swallows to avoid an instinctive retort. There’s silence at the table; the noise of the bar seems to swell into the space, and for a second it’s almost deafening. 

“We-ell, this is awkward,” Darcy interjects. 

Maria clears her throat. “Where’s Pepper? She hasn’t been around in a while.”

“She’s doing some environmentalism in business conference in Europe somewhere,” Natasha volunteers. 

“Europe’s getting kind of crowded,” Darcy comments. “I mean, with the soldier triplets wandering around cutting off HYRDA heads, now Pepper’s thing…” She pauses, and cocks her head. “Are all our friends moving to Europe without telling us?”

Natasha knows this is the right moment to lean over and pat Darcy’s arm, but she doesn’t feel comfortable with it after snapping at Maria. “I’m sure they’d let us know if that was happening,” she says instead. She marvels at the way Darcy shrugs off the concern, and revisits her theory that the intern thing is actually a cover for a one-woman spy network. How in the hell does an intern figure out her birthday? Even with all her files online, there should be only three people in the world who know the date that she picked arbitrarily the year after she joined SHIELD. Now it’s five.

“How about Jane?” Natasha asks. 

Darcy shrugs. “Last I heard, her hunk of man-flesh was giving her an all-access pass to the universe. Erik’s doing well, though. Hasn’t taken his pants off in public for a while.” She chuckles, but for the first time Natasha sees strain on Darcy’s face, and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

She’s quiet for the rest of the conversation, but she doesn’t think the others notice. It’s not like she has a lot going on right now, and she’s not the biggest sharer. Her and Maria have always had a cordial relationship, but in a group this small they find it difficult not to grate against each other. Neither of them are used to compromise, and in accepting a job for the CIA Maria’s been forced to button on yet another layer between her and the world. Natasha, on the other hand, is naked for the first time in her life. She gets the feeling that Maria envies her just as much as she envies Maria. 

As they leave, Darcy pinches Natasha’s sleeve to get her attention. 

“Here,” she says, pushing her empty reusable Starbucks cup into Natasha’s hand.

“What’s this?”

Darcy shrugs. “Happy birthday,” she says, grinning and snapping a picture on her phone as she turns away. 

Natasha isn’t sure why she feels so bewildered, or why she feels so inordinately pleased.

* * *

The apartment is just as dark and cold as it was when she left. She locks the door behind her and checks all the rooms and windows before she takes off her shoes and jacket. 

Her mail is mostly junk, but there is a postcard which, when she googles the place name on it, turns out to be a small town in Croatia. The only thing written on the back are three letters - S, S, B. She smiles, and pins it to the board hung behind the sofa that Sam bought her before she came back. There’s barely space for it on amongst all the other postcards. Every single one is a sign that Steve, Sam and Bucky are fine. Every single one is an affirmation that it was not a mistake to leave them. 

Natasha turns the TV and settles in for an evening of waiting until it’s acceptable for her to go to bed. 

* * *

At 9.03pm, there’s a knock at the door. Natasha jerks upright, one hand snapping to the knife between the sofa cushions. She unsheathes it and stalks to the door, knowing that assassins are unlikely to knock but unsure who else it could be.

The face she sees through the peephole is possibly the only one in the world that could make her drop the knife.

She pulls the door out of the way and throws her arms around Clint, hit suddenly by the sensation that this is an excellent end to a shitty day. 

“Hey. Are you ok?” he asks, staggering back slightly but gripping her tight.

“Yeah.” She pulls back, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “What are you looking so happy about?”

Clint scratches the back of his neck with one hand as he pulls a parcel out of the top of the duffel bag at his feet. “Happy birthday,” he says. From Clint, it sounds more like a declaration of affection than the accusation from earlier. She grins, and walks backwards into the apartment, hooking a finger into Clint’s belt loop to make sure he follows. He stumbles as he tries to walk and retrieve his bag at the same time, but he manages it. She lets go as soon as he’s inside, and leaves him to close the door while she rips open her gift. 

Out drops the most hideous sweater she’s ever seen.

She chokes back a snort as a thought strikes her. “Is this what your super top secret mission was?”

Clint smirks as he heads for the coffee machine. “I wanted it to be really terrible. Wouldn’t have been a proper birthday otherwise.”

“Mm.” Natasha pulls on the sweater and smiles as she looks down her front. “I feel nauseous just looking at myself.”

“Then I did right,” Clint says, tapping his fingers as he waits for coffee.

“Definitely,” Natasha confirms. She sits down, cross-legged, in front of the giant DVD collection that is mostly Clint’s, and begins formulating her shortlist of evening entertainment. Suddenly, she feels pleased about the fact that it’s her birthday. It’s been a long time since she felt that.


End file.
